


I'm Still Standing (Mush)

by politics_and_prose



Series: This is my family; I found it, all on my own [6]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 07:03:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18115724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/politics_and_prose/pseuds/politics_and_prose
Summary: I think I might have mentioned before that I'm not really well-versed in true origin stories of some of the boys, so if this isn't even close, I'm sorry, but I really hope you enjoy it anyway!





	I'm Still Standing (Mush)

**Author's Note:**

> I think I might have mentioned before that I'm not really well-versed in true origin stories of some of the boys, so if this isn't even close, I'm sorry, but I really hope you enjoy it anyway!

The first time Michael told someone he wasn’t a kid, he was ten and his folks had dropped him and his little sisters at the police station. They _were_ kids, barely old enough to take care of themselves, and he was supposed to take care of himself plus three little girls who just wanted their mother.

The cop who sat with them, an old guy who looked like he wanted to be anywhere else, told them that they could stay together for now but maybe not for long. Ruth cried, Elizabeth stared, and baby Mary babbled, not understanding any of it.

Truth be told, Michael didn’t really understand either. Sure, the cop told them that their folks weren’t coming back, that sometimes kids were too much for adults and they needed a fresh start. Michael thought that was crap, declared loudly that they “ain’t kids”, and got a weird smile from the guy for his troubles.

They all went to a house with a woman and a few other kids. They called her a foster mother and he didn’t know what that meant but she seemed nice enough. They all had chores, except baby Mary, of course, and since they had them at home, he didn’t mind.

Over the next couple of years, his sisters all got taken away to different homes. Ruth went to an older couple who didn’t have little kids anymore but wanted one, Elizabeth went to a young couple who wanted a little sister for their son, and Mary, who had only been at the home for a few weeks, went to a real young couple who wanted a baby.

Michael stayed.

He turned fourteen and his foster mother was still treating him like a little kid. He informed her, loudly and in some colorful language he’d picked up from the newsies who sold down the block, that he wasn’t a kid. He was punished, she didn’t change the way she treated him, and he kept reminding her he wasn’t a kid.

She kicked him out about a week later, telling him if he wanted to be an adult, he could, just not under her roof.

He met Louis ( _“They call me Blink on account’a my eye.”_ ) the same day he walked out of Miss Alice’s house. He was a little older than Michael and one of the newsies that sold down the block. He explained his situation and Blink had grinned, threw an arm over his shoulder and offered a, “Stick with me, kid. I’ve gotcha.” 

Michael shoved him away, once again having to declare he wasn’t a kid, but Blink just laughed and pulled him in again.   He was stronger, bigger, and Michael had no choice but to let Blink lead him wherever he was going. Feeling like he needed a win, he started calling Blink “ _Kid Blink_ ”. The other boy chuckled and took it, proudly declaring his new name to the other boys he introduced Michael to.

It was weird, living with a bunch of kids in a boarding house an old man was in charge of, but Michael didn’t think he hated it.

He had never really been good at anything but taking care of his sisters, but he found being a newsie wasn’t all that hard. Plus, even though he was pretty new, he still took on a role of taking care of the smaller kids. There were some that would be about Mary’s age, and making sure they ate and got to bed hurt his heart because he wasn’t doing it for her. It helped a little, though, when one of the boys, no more than five with a speech problem, mumbled a, _“sank’oo Mush”_ as he fell asleep.

The name stuck and while it wasn’t as cool as “Racetrack” or “Kid Blink”, he still kind of liked it. And if the Delancey brothers made fun of him, he just spouted off about it being because he soaked a fella until his face looked like mush. They didn’t need to know the true story.

When he was with the newsies, he didn’t feel like a kid and they didn’t treat him like one. He wasn’t a leader, not like Race or Blink or even Jack when he showed up, but they respected him and looked up to him. He mattered to them and that was all that mattered to him.

When Davey showed up and got Jack all interested in rebelling against the paper, Mush thought it was a really bad idea. They needed money for food and lodging and if they were striking, they weren’t working. Sure, the only person he really _had_ to take care of was himself, but there was no way he was going to let the little kids starve or sleep on the streets. No, they had to work.

But Jack was just really damn persuasive and with Davey as his second, something that would have made him angry if he was Race, they all agreed. It was hard, but some of the kids had savings and Jacobi was generous with his “stale” bread, so they didn’t starve or have to sleep in alleys.

The day Weasel had a bunch of hired scabs and goons waiting on them was terrifying. They were all a lot bigger than the boys and Mush was seriously concerned that someone wouldn’t make it out alive. He wanted to grab Crutchie and Smalls and some of the littler kids and get the hell out of there, but as soon as Weasel called them kids, he knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

Kids didn’t stand up to adults.

“Hey, we ain’t no kids!” he shouted, charging towards Weasel.

Jack pushed him back, readying the troops, before the brawl really began. There were fists and clubs flying, newsies laying on the ground bleeding, groaning, soaked damn good.

Crutchie’s screams echoed in his head as he made it back to the lodging house after, the last one trailing slowly behind the group of injured newsies. Davey and Les had gone back too, the elder wanting to make sure the younger didn’t look too worse for wear before taking him home.

As Mush climbed the stairs and entered the bunkroom, he had to stop at the door to catch his breath, his stomach throbbing painfully every time he took in air. He surveyed the state of the boys, his friends, and had to admit one thing to himself.

He really was just a kid. They all were. But that didn’t mean they weren’t going to win.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't love it. I've struggled with this story for quite a while, not quite being able to get it the way I want it.


End file.
